Christine's Apartment
by Pensez-a-Erik
Summary: Christine invites Erik over to her apartment for the first time. Lots of fluff! Now a two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

"Wow… I can't believe I've _never_ taken you to my apartment. Are you sure I haven't invited you over at least _once?_ "

Christine put the key into the ignition, turning to face him as she spoke. He was settled into the passenger seat, his black outfit and wide-brimmed hat allowing him to blend into the dark night.

"No," he replied quietly. "You have not."

"Oh. Huh." Her nose wrinkled. He found the small motion rather endearing. "Well, I guess I'll just have to give you a great tour, right?"

He managed a slight smile, but inwardly his stomach was performing violent somersaults. She had invited _him_ to her _house._ Where she _slept._

"That sounds grand, my dear," he said, his voice smooth as always. She flashed him a smile, and his heart decided to join in on the acrobatics.

They pulled out of the theater's parking lot, the small clock on the dashboard revealing the time to be a little bit past 10 P.M., far later than their lessons usually ran.

It had all begun when, after practice had 'technically' ended, Christine had started ranting about the state of her apartment.

"Believe me, Erik," she moaned, rubbing her face. She plopped down on a nearby chair. "It's absolutely deplorable! With school and your coaching- not that I'm complaining, I love these practices- I just haven't had time to clean it!"

The light of his life had laughed softly, then.

And, like a fool, he could not hold himself.

"I could assist you in decluttering," he offered, the admiration in his tone akin to a love-sick teenage boy. His hands twisted nervously together, clasped on his lap. He still sat at the piano.

"Really?" she blinked. "That would be fantastic, actually. You've seen my place before, right?"

Erik shook his head.

Now he sat in her green Toyota Prius, trying his hardest not to appear awkward as they drove through the mostly empty town.

The drive really wasn't that long, only five minutes from the theater. While the majority of it was spent in darkness since the streets were sparsely lit in the lower part of the city.

They pulled up to a shabby complex, parking in the designated spot.

Christine unbuckled herself. He remained in his seat.

"You live _here?_ " he narrowed his eyes up at the building. One of the windows was broken, and the door was swung wide open. Down the street, two people were yelling. He was distantly reminded of his own shady background, many of which dealings had occurred in such areas. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "It's not that fancy, but it's cheap, and all I can really afford right now."

"If you were impoverished, you should have told me. I have a bountiful amount of money, Christine. I can help you."

Christine rolled her eyes, and he followed her up to the front steps. "I'm not _impoverished_ , silly. Not everyone has a _bountiful amount of money,_ " she grinned cheekily.

He was ready to continue arguing, but she grasped his hand to lead him inside, and all of his functions failed. She half-dragged half-led him up to her apartment, talking all the while. He was unable to listen, instead entranced by the feel of her soft hand on his. She was holding his hand. His _hand._

Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry.

"Hey, Erik?" she shook him from his thoughts as she spoke. "This is my place. Again, it is, uh, not very aesthetic-y. Not like your place. You have a really fancy house."

She'd only been there once (which had ended up being a not-good idea,) but he immediately assumed her opinion was absolutely correct. He would agree with anything she said.

"Your home will be fine," he assured.

Putting the key into the lock, she swung the door open to reveal the living room.

It wasn't very big, the main room containing not much more than the couch, small kitchen, and television. There was a table with two seats pressed against the wall, but multiple boxes were stacked upon it. He assumed it was not used frequently.

"I was expecting more of a mess," he said, tilting his head. Entering he had half-expected for litter to be scattered all over the floor, boxes spread high to the ceiling, and just overall filth. Instead, it was cluttered… but in a neat sort of way. At least the floor was clean.

She tugged her hand out of his grip, waving at the kitchen. He immediately missed the warmth her palm had provided.

"You don't gotta sugarcoat it, Erik. It's not very nice." Christine sighed. "Well. Anyway. This is my living room… Hey, you don't mind if I changed into something more comfy for a few moments, do you?"

"I do not mind at all," replied Erik. She smiled at him again and disappeared into a door he had not noticed before.

Taking a seat on the couch, he leaned back and tilted his head to survey the room. Christine didn't have very many decorations, just a few pictures of her and her father on the walls.

Blinking at the television, he vaguely wondered how long she had lived in the dreary apartment.

Christine entered again, now wearing a different t-shirt and bright blue pajama bottoms. But that wasn't what caught his attention. It was…

"You wear glasses?" he was dumbfounded and continued staring at her face like a complete dolt.

She shifted on her feet.

"Oh, yeah. I'm pretty nearsighted, heh."

"I- I never realized that."

"Well," she shrugged, and moved to plop down onto the couch beside him. "I wear contacts during the day. I don't like wearing these very often. I look funny."

"Ah," he said, still absorbing information. Her glasses were red, wide-rimmed, and framed her face perfectly. She looked even lovelier with them on, if that was possible.

"You don't mind, do you?" her brows furrowed. _Crud,_ she had noticed his staring.

"No! No." he replied too quickly, "You look fine. Better, even."

She laughed. "I'm glad you think so. I've always felt a little self-conscious about them."

Erik took a risk, reaching out to grasp her hand. "You do not need to- you look fine." The understatement of the century.

Her eyes glimmered with an unfamiliar emotion, and she smiled. "Thank you, Erik."

She shifted to hold her hand fully in his. The contact caused him to suck in air between his teeth.

For a few long, deliriously happy moments, they sat together, holding hands on the couch.

But of course eventually, it ended, with her yawning and standing up to stretch.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked, turning to look at him. The overhead light fixture glinted on the rim of her glasses, once again attracting his attention. Erik found he was quickly becoming rather attached to them.

Suddenly he recalled she had asked him a question.

"Tea would be fine," was his response, "If it isn't too much trouble."

"It's not!" she perked up. "I'll get to making that right away."

Christine went over to the small kitchen, and he leaned back against the couch once more, feeling terribly awkward. What was he even _here_ for? Did she expect something from him? He wracked through his mind, trying to think up any possible reason she would desire him in her apartment.

It was clear she was nervous. About _what_ was beyond him.

No, that wasn't true. Her nervousness was probably _because_ of him. Instantly he paled.

 _Way to fucking go, Erik. She probably invited you out of sheer politeness, and like an ignorant fool, you pounced on the chance to see her more. No wonder she's anxious, she doesn't want you here!_

Gods, he could be such a complete heel sometimes, especially when it came to women.

He opened his mouth to rectify his mistake and ask to leave when she spoke again, now returning with two mugs of tea.

"I forgot to ask how you'd like yours," she said, apologetically. "So I just put a little bit of sugar in it."

Christine handed him his cup, and he took it gently and thanked her. Then she moved to sit beside him once more on the couch.

"Careful, it's hot," she warned, softly blowing on the steam. He tried to mimic the motion but ended up nearly spilling the mug.

 _To hell with it,_ he thought and tilted the still very-very hot mug to down the tea.

Erik's grimaced. She had not been joking. It was incredibly hot and scalded his throat and tongue. But he deserved it, for not realizing her discomfort earlier. A proper punishment.

"It is very delicious," he told her, and she grinned, then began to drink her own tea. She, at least, sipped hers. As opposed to drinking it as quickly as possible in order to harm oneself.

He crossed his ankles from his spot on the too-short couch (well, too-short for _him_ ) and tried not to appear as uncomfortable as he felt.

"So," he swallowed and set down his empty mug. He tried to ignore his aching, burned tongue to no avail. She looked up at him expectantly.

"I… suppose I will head home after this."

Erik scarced a glance at Christine and was shocked to find her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Wait, really? I thought you were gonna stay longer. You just got here..." Her face fell, and his heart raised.

Erik nearly choked. "You… want… me here?" Beneath his mask, his eyebrows furrowed. This was an entirely unseen turn in events. "I had assumed you wished me to leave."

"No! I want you here. Why would you leave?"

 _I want you here._

His heart now began to pound.

"You were nervous," he sputtered. "Was it not because you were discontent with my presence?"

"No, not at all," she shook her head so violently he was momentarily worried it would fall off. "I am a little awkward, but it's not because of _you,_ per say."

"If not me, then why?" he was still terribly confused.

Her expression darkened for a split-second at his question, so quick that he might have believed it.

"How about I show you my rock collection? I know it sounds really cliche… but I have a pretty big one. And they're all super pretty."

Though still not entirely assuaged by this turn in the conversation, he nodded his assent. She led him into the closed door to the left- her bedroom.

It was as small as the rest of the home, with a little dresser containing multiple nick-nacks, a single framed portrait of her father, and a black box.

Christine went over to the dresser to pick up the box, flicking open the hatch. She moved over to sit on the bed and motioned for him to join her.

"Look-" she said, and lifted a dark blue stone with a smooth imprint in the middle. "Meg gave me this one, what you do is rub your thumb in the middle and it's supposed to be calming. You wanna try?"

She passed the stone to him, and he did as she said. The small rock was still warm from the heat of her hands. He handed it back.

"This rock," she returned the blue stone and picked up another. This new one was a purple geode. "Is kind of self-explanatory. It's really pretty, I found it while hiking, once."

They went through a few others before she showed him an amber gemstone. She held it gently as if afraid it would break.

"The amber is my favorite," Christine looked up at him. "It kind of reminds me of your eyes, you know."

Erik was genuinely baffled. "That's a good thing?" He asked softly.

"Of course! You have really neat eyes. They're the color of honey. _Way_ better than my plain old blue eyes."

"You're eyes are anything but _plain,_ my dear." He was fervent before he even realized it. "You're eyes are soft, like ocean waves, or the color of blueberries, or-or cobalt crystals." Erik could go on and on about her eyes, for they were part of _her,_ and he loved her very much. Yet as she sat stock-still, her breathing oddly rushed, he worried he had overstepped his boundaries.

Then Christine leaned forward in an instant, her free hand moving to cup his masked cheek. Before he realized what was happening, she pressed her lips to his. A flash of movement, and then a light, velvet pressure on his mouth. Her curls tickled his chin.

Erik was stunned- electrified- in complete _awe._

She… kissed him. _Him._ A hideous joke of a man who hid in the shadows and did nothing but teach her to sing.

It was over much too quickly, and she pulled away to tuck her hair anxiously behind an ear.

"Was- was that okay?" she bit on her plump bottom lip. The same lip his own had touched seconds earlier. "I haven't just ruined everything, have I?"

It was a complete struggle to encourage his tongue to function.

"No, n-not at all," was all he could manage. She had most decidedly _not_ ruined everything. The exact opposite, in reality.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh. Good. I'm sorry, I was just so worried that I would mess things up with you coming over and being around you and not being able to touch you has been so difficult and that's why I was so nervous earlier and-"

"Wait," he stopped her, breathless. "You… feel… for me? You _want_ to touch me?"

"Well, yeah," she said it as if it was something obvious, or an event to be expected. Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced down. Erik could scarcely breathe.

"Christine," he murmured, but it came out as more of a whimper. "May I...I kiss you again?"

"I'd love that," she replied, and this time _he_ initiated the kiss, leaning forward. Christine responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck to tug her closer.

She tasted like honey and sweet tea, and he wished to savor it for the rest of time. Her kiss drugged his mind, and he couldn't get enough of it. Her softness seemed to envelop him, with her warm arms and perfectly delicious lips.

And _oh,_ she slid onto his lap, not breaking the kiss, and pulled him even _closer,_ if that was even possible. His hands had been clenched into the blankets before, but now they raised to encircle her waist and lock her in place. She was _allowing_ him to hold her _waist._ A very distant part of him felt lightheaded.

Erik was positive he had ascended from Earth and reached the heavens. This _had_ to be a dream, it was too delightful.

She broke away for breath, her chest heaving. She blinked at him a few times.

"Oh, _Christine,_ " he whispered. "You are magical. A faerie. An angel."

She giggled and shifted on his lap to rest her head against his shoulder. He tilted his head to press his face against her hair. They could remain in that moment for the rest of eternity, sitting on her bed, locked in a warm embrace. It would be perfect.

"Erik?" she broke through his thoughts.

"Hm?" he couldn't bring himself to pull away, not yet. His voice was slightly muffled.

"Since you're already here… do you want to sleep over for the night?"

Erik could cry tears of joy, but he managed to hold himself.

"I- that would be perfect, my dear."

She lifted her head, smiled, and kissed him again.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik's eyes flittered open with a start, dazed and unfocused. Grogginess still tugged at his brain, and he found himself amazed that he'd even managed to fall asleep. He didn't recall taking any sleeping pills before bed, considering how his insomnia was usually so awful he was unable to sleep otherwise.

No… he had not taken any pills _because_ he had never reached home last night.

He suddenly became keenly aware of the small arm strung across his waist, and the snoring blonde that was tucked into his side. _Right next to him!_

He stiffened and looked down at her, his eyes widening ever so slightly to take all of her in. Christine looked like an angel, even in sleep. She nearly took his breath away.

Then she chose to awake at that exact moment, yawning, stretching, and shifting to gaze up at him. Her face lit up, and she smiled.

"Good morning," her voice cracked a little bit.

Erik couldn't help but feel awkward, swallowing and blinking at her a few times. She had caught him staring at her- was she now going to realize that she had allowed _him,_ a monster, the textbook definition of a villain, to sleep _next to her!_ Goosebumps rippled across his skin as he awaited her screams.

But they did not come.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him.

He wanted to tell her that it was the best sleep he'd ever gotten, that he would never find sleep just as satisfying as having her next to him- but he refrained.

"I slept… fine," he understated.

Yawning once more, she gave him another bright grin. Those soft smiles of hers could keep him afloat alone.

Sitting up, she gently extracted herself from his embrace (he hadn't realized he still held her) to rub her face.

"Erik?"

"Hm?" he raised a hand to make sure his mask was still in place. It felt a little tight from having worn it all night, but the chaffing was definitely worth it.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

XXxxXX

They had had to shift all the boxes to the floor in order to clear the small dining table off, with her picking up the lighter ones and him the heavier boxes. At some point, she'd dropped a box a little too roughly, and he jumped at the sound of breaking glass.

"Oops," she cringed. "I hope that was nothing important. I really need to go through all of this stuff."

Now they sat at the clean table, holding two cups of tea and bagels. She had apologized profusely at the lack of food around her apartment, but it didn't really matter to him. It wasn't as if he ate very much, anyway.

"I've been too busy to pick up groceries, heh," was her explanation.

Christine bit into her bagel, before glancing up at him. She swallowed her bite. Then glanced up at the clock.

"Oh, crud!" she gasped, and once more her tensed. This time, however, he thought she was shocked at _him._

"What-"

"I'm gonna be late for class! It starts in ten minutes!" She appeared frazzled, and she looked quickly around the living room to locate her backpack. It was stuffed behind the couch, where she had neglected it the previous night.

Racing over, she lifted it and slung it onto her back, before turning apologetically towards him. Christine adjusted her glasses, and he fought the urge to kiss her again.

"God, Erik, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot today was Monday!" Her brows furrowed. "I feel like such a dolt."

At those words, he shifted his chair back, stood up, and walked towards her. Gently he took her hands into his.

"You are not a dolt," he stated as if it were fact. Slightly emboldened by the fact she did not pull away, he softly rubbed his thumb into circles on her palms. She shivered and looked up into his eyes. Bright sky-blue against sharp amber.

She licked her lips, blinking several times before letting out a little exhale. She leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. His heart nearly stopped.

"You're so sweet," she murmured. "I wish I didn't have class. College sucks."

She _called_ him _sweet!_ Erik was rendered mute. His tongue was no longer functional, and neither were his god-damned emotions that he evidently could not keep under control. Not with her standing so close to him. He could almost smell her shampoo.

"Say, what if we met afterward?" she pulled away. "We could go out for lunch. Your choice."

Using the force of pure will, he managed to reply. "That would be lovely."

Christine clapped her hands together, grinning broadly. "Great!" she exclaimed. "My class gets out at around eleven- where should I pick you up at? I can give you a ride."

Certainly not at his house, he realized distantly. "At the practice building would be perfect, my dear."

Then she went and hugged him goodbye. _Him!_ Willingly! And was it his imagination, or did she give him a peck on the cheek before they left?

XXxxXX

Erik had never been an extrovert. In fact, he fitted the description of an introvert to a T. In fact, before meeting Christine he could not recall the last time he had truly _wanted_ to spend more time with a person. And, well, before Christine he had rarely held conversations with people that did not include threats or violent warnings.

He could not recall the last time he'd gone out to a restaurant. The mask usually proved to be a hindrance and scared employees, as well as the fact he did not eat often.

But if _Christine_ insisted to go out to eat… then he would enjoy this meal damn-well. Suddenly the idea of eating out sounded miraculous- amazing- the best idea since the invention of sliced bread.

Now he found himself standing inside another apartment complex, his heart leaping in his chest as he thought about what would happen in less than fifty minutes. Lifting his fist, he knocked on the door in front of him.

"Just a moment!" echoed a muffled voice from within.

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed from behind his mask. He knocked once more, multiple times.

"I said _just a moment!"_ Something fell and made a loud noise.

Unhappy to have been kept waiting long, Erik banged on the door louder. "Daroga!" he growled. "Let me in."

The door was jerked open, revealing Nadir standing in a pair of t-shirt and jeans. His hair was still sopping wet.

"I was taking a shower," he grimaced.

"Irrelevant." Erik strode past him, settling comfortably on the couch. Or as comfortably as he could manage. He was absolutely quivering with excitement.

Nadir sat grouchily on the chair opposite him, obviously expecting an apology for interrupting him so abruptly. Well, he was not going to receive one, _that_ was for sure.

The Iranian sighed. "You might as well explain why you decided to barge in. I hope there's a good reason."

There most definitely was. "You recall Christine?"

"How could I forget?" His voice was ripe with dry sarcasm. Erik ignored it.

"She kissed me. After inviting me to her apartment to spend the night."

Nadir's eyes flew wide open at his words. "She- _what?"_

"Kissed me. We kissed, Daroga. Don't suffer a brain aneurysm over it. Evidently, even a horrifying freak of nature like me can have a kiss."

"I'm not- That's not what I- you spent the night with her?"

"We did, in fact." Erik leaned back, tilting his chin up. "Per her request. It was the most glorious and miraculous night of my life."

The other man's eyes grew wide, and he swallowed any more words of astonishment that threatened to bubble up. "That's good, Erik," he said instead. "I'm happy for you. What are you two doing for the rest of the day?"

"Well, since you asked, we're going out to eat." _Like a date_.

Wait… was it a date? Had Christine invited him out on a date, and he'd simply not realized it was anything more than lunch? Erik's brow furrowed beneath the mask.

"Daroga," he swallowed. "Do you… suppose this was meant to be a- a date?"

The Iranian tilted his head. "I had assumed it was. I do believe the young lady is interested in you, Erik."

"Well I- I mean- I had assumed that she didn't actually _feel_ anything for me."

"You told me you two kissed, rather enthusiastically, might I add. Most women don't go around inviting men to their homes to kiss and go out for lunch with them for no reason at all _._ "

Erik's eyes grew wide, and his mouth felt unexpectedly dry all of the sudden.

"Pardon me," he rasped, "But I think I shall take my leave now. I must go to where Christine said she'd pick me up."

And then he left.

XXxxXX

The waitress led them to a small table in the back, hidden away where most of the other customers would be unable to view them. The server had been wary of his mask at first, giving him a suspicious look (that frankly he did not blame her for), until she had noticed Christine on his arm.

Now they sat across from each other, and he envied her precise calm as if their date was nothing out of the ordinary. She appeared perfectly content, while _he_ felt as if his heart was ready to convulse and give him an attack.

It was his greatest hope that such would not happen. It would be terribly messy, and would for sure leave a bad impression on his Christine. Gods forbid.

"Erik?" her pleasant voice broke through his thoughts, and he lowered the menu to look at her. "What do you think you're going to get?"

Erik blinked with inward panic. His eyes scanned the page for the first meal that popped up.

"I, uh, the Homestyle Meatloaf looks delicious. I do believe that is what I shall buy."

"Ooh, that sounds good," she replied. "I've always liked meatloaf. Y'know, it always gets riffed on in books and stuff but personally, I think it's great."

The sweet girl rambled on for the next three minutes about her opinion on meatloaf, and while any normal person might have been bored to tears, he must have clung on to every word like a dull idiot. Erik had never even _had_ meatloaf before, but he was willing to agree with anything Christine said if it would mean he would be able to hear her talk. Did that sound odd? He was positive that sounded odd.

"My dear," he interjected, changing the topic while she took a breath to continue. "What shall you be getting?"

"Oh, me? Probably some sort of omelet. I haven't been to a Denny's in a while, y'know. I'm more of an IHOP kind of gal."

Erik stored that knowledge away for future reference.

The waitress came and took their orders, promising that their meal would be ready shortly. He and Christine spent the following half hour discussing her singing career. Erik found he was enjoying himself immensely.

"You're going to have to ease up on that sweet tea, my dear," he teased. "You have a performance coming up- we can't have your beautiful voice croaking mid-show."

Christine pressed a hand over her heart, mock-offended. "Why, my voice would _never!_ You said it yourself, I sound as angelic as if I had descended from the heavens."

"It's true," he said, his tone shifting to complete seriousness. Somehow, her hand found his. Her eyes stared into his. He was oh-so-tempted to lean in, just a little bit, and plant a kiss on her soft, available lips-

Their server chose at that moment to return, placing their plates down. Christine sat back and away from him. Cooing over how delicious her meal looked. Erik tried not to let his disappointment bother him too much.

Maybe she didn't want him to kiss her again? After all, Erik was probably wrong. This wasn't a date, it was just a nice dinner between friends.

He stared down at his meatloaf.

Even if those kisses she had gifted him last night meant nothing to her… he knew he would treasure them always. _Hell,_ at least she hadn't absolutely purged him of her life. She seemed to want him near, albeit platonically.

Stuck in a stupor of depression, he did not notice Christine look up at him. Or speak.

"Erik?" she repeated herself, reaching over to tug at his sleeve gently. His masked face turned up to look at her.

"Pardon?"

"How's your meatloaf?"

He glanced down at his untouched meal.

"It is fine," he replied. "It holds no unusual taste."

Her nose wrinkled as she giggled, though not unkindly. "You have such funny ways of saying things. Really eloquently. I like it, though. I'm glad your food tastes good. Mine is really great."

Erik smiled a little.

XXxxXX

The air was chilly as they stepped outside, fall leaves blowing and gathering around their feet as Erik and Christine left the warm sanctuary of Denny's.

She rubbed her bare arms. "Brr, it's frigid."

She had neglected a jacket and instead was clothed in a light blue sundress that barely reached down to her knees. Her hair was tousled by the wind as they walked, glinting white beneath the streetlights. It was later out than he had realized. Usually, he was so keen to his surroundings, but when around her he could pay attention to nothing else.

Without hesitation he swung off his own coat, pulling it onto her so she was swathed in the thick, soft material. Being as tall as he was, his coat dwarfed her and the tail reached down to her ankles. Christine grinned up at him.

"Thanks," she murmured. After a long pause, she tilted her head up towards him. Her cobalt eyes were bright as they met hers. She was expecting something… but he didn't know what.

They must have stood in the parking lot for at least a full minute before he shook his head, and gently grasped her hand.

"Come," was his only words. "We must get you out of this cold, my dear, before you catch your death."

Her car was parked over at the far end of the lot, and he opened the drivers' side for her. She slid into the seat, and he settled into the passengers soon enough.

She put the key into the ignition but did not turn it. For a few moments, she simply blinked at the wheel, in deep thought. Her brows were scrunched together.

"Erik?" she turned to look at him. "You enjoyed this, didn't you?"

Erik frowned beneath her scrutiny. "I did, Christine. It was very pleasant."

The blonde angel tilted her head. Exhaled. "Just pleasant?"

The car felt very warm all of the sudden. What did she _expect_ from him?

"I...yes?"

Shifting in her seat, a hand raised to brush some hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture.

"Well, I..." a pause, "Could I kiss you, Erik?"

Again? His amber eyes grew round. She wanted to kiss him… again?

"You want to?" he asked.

She nodded, sitting up a little bit straighter in her seat. "I would, yeah."

Erik's mouth felt dry, but still, he gave his consent, clenching his eyes shut. He was terrified once more of overstepping his boundaries, allowing her to control the situation.

And she did.

Leaning forward, he felt her lips press against his. Warm, soft, the most exquisite pressure on his face that he had ever felt. Her hands raised to find hold at his collar, pulling him closer to her. His own palms cupped her face, running through the back of her curls, fingers entwining in her hair. Her nose bumped against the nose of his mask, and surely it must have been cold to her, but neither cared.

Christine eventually pulled away, breathing hard and smiling with her kiss-bruised lips.

"I'm sorry," she said, and his heart momentarily froze. "I didn't mean for that to get as, uh, out of control as it did. Heh."

Erik, still drunk from the passion of her kiss, could do nothing but nod in agreement.

XXxxXX

The car parked outside of the practice building and Christine turned to look at him.

"Well, this is it," she breathed. "We should do this again sometime, Erik. This was nice."

He enveloped her hand within his, raising it up to his lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. She blushed.

"I would love that," he replied, earnest. "Until then, however, I must bid you adieu."

He left the vehicle and vanished inside the building.

Christine sat still, tilting her head back as she recalled the feel of his lips, his scent, his touch. A shiver ran down her spine.

Oh, they would most definitely have to have another date.


End file.
